


Wasteland, baby!

by Philosoferre



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Cannibalism, Domestic Avengers, Fluff, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Zombies, this fic doesn't take itself seriously as you can imagine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-03-13 17:15:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18945346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosoferre/pseuds/Philosoferre
Summary: “How aren’t you freaking out?” Bucky asks, a little panicked. His heart is pounding, his hands are clammy, he feels like his throat is constricting. “I’m freaking out, Nat. I’d be fucking screaming if I was you. I think I’m gonna-”Natasha puts a comforting hand on his arm. “It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve ever come across.”Well, isn’t that a relief. Bucky closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and counts to ten. He just needs to calm down.“I need to scream,” Bucky says.He lets out a raw, loud, high-pitched scream, and surprisingly, it helps him feel better.(During a mission-gone-wrong at a Hydra lab, Steve accidentally turns into a flesh-eating zombie. It’s a good thing his boyfriend is an ex-assassin.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Hozier! This is a Santa Clarita Diet au, so I'm putting trigger warnings for violence, cannibalism, and vomit here (the vomit part is really just in this chapter; if you don't want to read it, skip the part from when Nat and Buck are watching 10 Things I Hate About You until Steve and Bucky talk to Bruce. You won't miss anything plot-wise!). And by au, I mean I'm just using the concept of the show, not anything from the plot beyond the pilot episode. 
> 
> Title comes from Hozier. This is unbeta'ed, so all mistakes are mine. Enjoy!

Steve’s been acting weird ever since the mission, and Bucky’s starting to get suspicious. The man went in that Hydra lab all confident and kickass, and then he left to chase some Hydra agent for half an hour and came back looking like he saw death itself. Or maybe it’s the nausea he’s complaining about.

 

“You should probably see a doctor,” Bucky says, as they sneak in the back entrance of the Avengers Tower to avoid the paparazzi. Again. “I could take you to the-”

 

Steve waves a dismissive hand. “No, it’s fine, really. Just a stomach ache. It’ll go away soon.”

 

He certainly doesn’t look fine, but Bucky’s not about to question that with his nonexistent medical degree. All he knows is how to identify pneumonia (a WebMD page he doesn’t remember how he got to, don’t ask), which hasn’t come in handy yet. 

 

“It’s probably that place you made us go to,” Tony says, wrinkling his nose in dramatic disgust. “What was it called again? Japopo’s? Weird name, and the food wasn’t even  _ that _ good.”

 

Clint nods and tosses the keys to their totally-inconspicuous van to Tony. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that lobster’s what gave me diarrhea.” He pats Steve’s shoulder. “Word of advice? Avoid the toilet in the basement.”

 

Tony makes a gagging noise. Bucky thinks he’s going to be sick now. Dear god, the people he surrounds himself with.

 

“You’re fucking gross, Barton,” Natasha says.

 

Clint shrugs. 

 

Steve laughs it off. “Guys, I’m fine. I’ll just take a nap, it’ll go away.”

 

Bucky can’t shake it off as easily as Steve can. The worry settles in his gut, heavy and burdensome and prickling. He almost argues, tries to force Steve to come with him to the emergency room right now and get it checked out because, sure, it might just be bad food but it could also be whatever Hydra was brewing in their lab, and- and now that he thinks about it, he sounds like a concerned suburban mom. Yikes. 

 

“Did you really have to tell us about your diarrhea?” Tony asks, breaking the silence. 

 

Clint shrugs again. 

 

Bucky sighs, trying to hide the smile that threatens to appear any minute. Even though he can’t help being an anxious parent, he lets Steve take a well-deserved nap and sends him off with a soft kiss and a playful slap on the ass. He gets a wink in return, and that pretty much makes his day. 

 

“You’re almost as gross as Clint,” Natasha says. As if she wasn’t the one who helped Bucky get last year’s badass and totally unbeatable anniversary gift. 

 

Bucky ruffles her hair. “And you love us for it.”

 

Natasha gives him the finger, but Bucky sees past her edge. He knows her too well, and besides, there’s a fondness in her eyes and a half-smile on her lips. She’s a real softie at heart. 

 

“Watch tv with me?” Bucky asks. He gestures at the common room, gloriously unattended and quiet. That means he finally gets the giant-ass television without anyone else annoying him. 

 

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Sure, I guess, if you want,” she says, sighing like it’s such an effort. 

 

Even though Bucky gets to the couch before her, he’s sorely mistaken about the amount of personal space he gets. Apparently Natasha’s never heard of such a thing, and ten minutes into browsing Netflix, she’s spread out all over him, content as a cat. Bucky’s starting to think she might actually be one. 

 

They’re halfway through  _ 10 Things I Hate About You _ (Clint’s dvd copy, and they’re only watching it because Natasha thinks Kat is hot) when Bucky hears something loud and vomit-esque. Natasha sits up and pauses the movie, frowning. So she must’ve heard it too, which at least means Bucky isn’t crazy yet. 

 

“That sounded suspiciously like someone vomiting,” Natasha says. 

 

Bucky hums in agreement. “Suspiciously like  _ Steve _ vomiting.”

 

“Ew,” Natasha says, shoving a finger in her mouth and pretending to gag. “Don’t tell me you can recognize each other’s disgusting bodily functions.”

 

Bucky shoves her away to get off the couch. He doesn’t  _ really _ want to go upstairs, but he kinda has to. Boyfriend code of conduct and all that. “No, we can’t, but Steve’s the most likely option. You can continue the movie without me.”

 

He takes a deep breath, pushes down the vomit stirring in his stomach, and heads upstairs to check on Steve. 

 

By the time he gets to the bathroom in their suite, after pausing several times on the staircase to calm himself down, the vomit sounds have been replaced by dry heaving - honestly worse - and heavy breathing. Steve’s kneeling in front of the toilet, a hand on either side, face red and eyes squeezed shut. 

 

“Hey,” Bucky says quietly. He kneels down beside Steve and puts a hesitant hand on his back. “You okay, pal? Doing any better?”

 

Steve coughs for another solid minute, but then he eventually, tentatively, reaches a hand out and laces his fingers with Bucky’s. He leans back, and Bucky wordlessly wraps his other arm around his waist and holds him close, revels in the comfort of Steve’s breath. Never mind that they’re cuddling on the bathroom floor. 

 

Bucky reaches up to flush the toilet because he thinks he’ll actually vomit if he sees what’s inside. Steve shifts and shoves his face further against Bucky’s chest. 

 

“Babe?” Bucky asks. He pushes up the hem of Steve’s shirt and rubs circles on his warm skin.

 

Steve takes a deep breath. “I feel a little better.”

 

“Good,” Bucky whispers. 

 

They stay on the bathroom floor until Steve decides it’s kinda gross and he should probably change and, most importantly, his butt’s hurting from the tile. Bucky hugs him again once he doesn’t smell like stomach bile and he’s positive he isn’t going to vomit more. 

 

That lasts for about ten minutes, and then Steve’s vomiting into the toilet again, Bucky by his side. He doesn’t have any hair to hold back so he can pretend to be useful, so Bucky just awkwardly rests a hand on his back and whispers soothing nothings. Natasha comes up then and asks if there’s anything she can do, but Bucky assures her he’s got it all handled. He doesn’t think Steve would want anyone else there, anyway. 

 

“‘M sorry,” Steve mumbles, when he’s finally done spewing his guts out. 

 

Bucky kisses his forehead and smiles, running his thumb along his cheek. “No need to be sorry, babe. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

 

Steve lets out a relieved sigh and sits back. He might be a stubborn dumbass and he might really believe it’s just a stomach ache, but Bucky isn’t as convinced. Clearly, it hasn’t gone away like Steve hoped, and if it’s causing him to vomit this much, maybe it’s something more. 

 

He waits a few seconds before he brings it up. “Are you sure you don’t wanna go to the hospital? Like, a hundred percent positive?”

 

Steve nods and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. A disgusting habit, but Bucky will excuse it just this once. “Yeah, I’m sure, Buck. There’s probably a long wait time anyway.” He smiles weakly, but it’s still a patented Steve Rogers smile, so it’s beautiful by definition. “Thanks for being here.”

 

Bucky bats his eyelashes. “Aw, it’s no big deal, Stevie. I’m your boyfriend, it’s my legal obligation.”

 

Steve huffs out a laugh, but he still hugs Bucky and presses a gentle kiss on his neck, and Bucky considers that a win. 

 

The next time Steve feels like vomiting, Bucky isn’t as fortunate. He’s finally unpacking his mission equipment and making sure all his precious knives are in good shape when he hears the first warning sign: the dry heaving. Steve’s standing beside him, one hand on his mouth and the other on his stomach, looking like he’s really trying to hold it in. His breathing starts to sound… liquidy. 

 

“No, Steve, no,” Bucky says, eyes going wide. He points at the bathroom. “Toilet. There’s a- you should-”

 

Steve hurriedly shakes his head. Jesus Christ. Bucky can’t do this. 

 

“No no no no,” Bucky says. “No, god, no no no-”

 

Too late. Steve vomits all over him; it covers his uniform and drips down his hands and clumps in his hair. Bucky wipes the vomit off his mouth, and only realizes after that he probably just made it even worse. Great. Fucking great. He’s drenched in mustard yellow vomit, and it’s seeping through his clothes and staining the carpet and-

 

Bucky narrows his eyes. That’s a lot of vomit. A suspicious amount of vomit. He looks around, and the entire wall behind him - curtains and all - is covered in even more vomit. Like someone just filled a hose with that stuff and let loose. 

 

And Steve, suspiciously, seems fine. Relieved, even. Like he’s finally emptied everything in his stomach, which is… really weird. Not that Bucky’s an expert or anything, but he’s assuming this much vomit is extremely unhealthy and borderline a reasonable cause of death. 

 

And then he sees the small, red ball on the carpet. He squints at it, trying to ignore the knot in his gut. It’s got a weird texture.

 

“Steve,” Bucky says slowly, “is that an organ?”

 

Steve wipes his mouth and glances at the ball-thing. “Huh.”

 

-

 

Bruce hasn’t stopped pacing the room since Bucky and Steve went down there. Considering Steve refused to go to a hospital, Bucky took him to the next best option: the mini clinic in the basement. There’s a hospital bed and equipment and everything, and Bruce seems to have some medical knowledge, so they’re in good hands.

 

Then again, Steve  _ did _ just throw up something that’s most likely an organ. 

 

“Bruce?” Bucky asks. 

 

Bruce snaps out of his trance and takes off his glasses to rub his eyes. “I’m sorry, this is just really weird.”

 

“You think?” Bucky’s not even going to apologize for being sarcastic. He can’t help it. 

 

“What do you think is happening?” Steve asks. He’s swinging his legs against the bed. He’s been restless ever since he vomited his entire body weight. Bucky’s instinct tells him that’s a bad thing. 

 

Bruce crosses his arms. “I don’t know, Steve. I’ve never come across anything like this. I’ll need a- a blood test, and then I’ll try and see what I get. I don’t have much for you now, but I can tell you that this,” he points at the ball-thing, which Bucky put in a ziploc, “definitely isn’t an organ.”

 

Steve just nods. “So what is it?”

 

“I’ll look into it,” Bruce says.

 

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. He can’t believe this. “So if it’s not an organ, what the everloving fuck is it? And where the fuck did it come from?”

 

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Bruce says. “I really don’t know.”

 

Bucky waits outside while Bruce gets the blood test. He just needs a moment to collect himself, take a deep breath and scream internally. He wishes someone could tell him what the fuck was going on, and then maybe he’d calm down. Maybe. He barely notices that the blood test is over until he feels a tap on his shoulder.

 

It’s Steve. He looks a lot more tired than he did earlier, and Bucky briefly wonders if Bruce slipped him some sleeping pills. 

 

“So, what is it?” Bucky asks. He offers Steve a smile and turns to face Bruce, who’s leaning against the doorframe.

 

“It’s- never mind, I don’t want to stress you out. I need to check what we got from Hydra.” Bruce looks at Steve over the rim of his glasses. “You should take it easy, Steve. I’ll try and get the results tomorrow.”

 

Bucky really feels like punching a hole through the wall, but instead he says, “Thanks, Bruce.”

 

The Tower is quiet when they leave the basement. Natasha’s passed out in the common room, and Clint and Tony are nowhere to be seen. Thank god, because Bucky kind of likes having a vulnerable and sleepy Steve all to himself. Sometimes, he thinks Steve doesn’t like the Avengers knowing he’s still human. He always puts up this brave facade, dismisses any pain, and refuses to talk about his feelings. With Bucky, he’s always let his guard down. So maybe he’s a little smug about that. 

 

Steve lets Bucky help him out of his uniform (a real pain for whoever’s on laundry duty this week) and put on a pair of warm socks (he has really cold feet, it’s annoying) and tuck him in. Bucky loves when he gets to take care of his baby, even though Steve usually protests getting any and all help. He turns off all the lights except the one by his side of the bed, and then he crawls under the covers and pulls Steve close. 

 

“You feelin’ any better?” Bucky asks, voice barely above a murmur. He presses soft kisses along Steve’s neck and on his jaw. 

 

Steve takes Bucky’s hands in his own and sighs contentedly. “I’m kinda tired, I think I’m gonna…” He doesn’t say anything for a moment - Bucky’s pretty sure he fell asleep - and then he lazily rolls over, cups Bucky’s face, and whispers, “Good night, Buck.”

 

Bucky kisses him. “Good night, baby.”

 

Steve snuggles against Bucky’s chest, and Bucky falls asleep to the rhythm of his breath.

 

-

 

Bucky wakes up to Steve pressing fervent, needy kisses on his neck, and a hand groping his ass through his boxers. Bucky groans and turns to face Steve, rubbing a hand on his face.

 

“Jesus, Steve,” he mumbles. The curtains have been partially opened, so there’s some light in the room, but it’s still considerably dark. “At least wait for me to wake up?”

 

Steve pouts. “I was gonna wake you up with a blowjob.”

 

Bucky blinks. He’s much too tired for this, but the idea  _ does _ sound appealing. “What the fuck?” 

 

It’s not like he’s opposed to Steve sucking his dick instead of an alarm clock, he’s just kind of… surprised. Steve’s never suggested anything like that, and every time Bucky tried to slyly bring it up (because dear lord does that turn him on), Steve kept grumbling about how he doesn’t like morning sex and probably never will, but he’ll make up for it by giving Bucky a blowjob in the shower. Whatever happened yesterday must’ve made Steve really horny. Not that Bucky’s complaining or anything. 

 

“I thought it’d be nice,” Steve says, sounding a little hurt. He sits back and pouts with those cute puppy eyes of his and Bucky seriously can’t deal with that. “‘Cause you do so much for me.”

 

Bucky groans and pulls Steve closer, peppering little kisses all over his face. “It  _ is _ nice, baby.”

 

Steve seems to light up at this, and then he’s back to kissing Bucky and fumbling with his boxers. 

 

-

 

“I’m kinda hungry,” Bucky says, trailing a finger across Steve’s chest. He’s all sticky and sweaty and warm, and he’s getting sleepier by the minute. “Wanna go get breakfast? I’ll make pancakes.”

 

Steve hums. “God, I’m starving. Pancakes sound amazing.”

 

Bucky kisses him before getting up and tugging a shirt on. As much as he hates leaving the warmth of the bed and the comfort of Steve’s arms, he has responsibilities. Bucky waits for Steve to (reluctantly) get dressed, and then they head downstairs, hand-in-hand. 

 

Everyone else is already in the kitchen. Tony’s making himself some coffee, Clint’s eating an apple, with the peel, like that isn’t disgusting, and Bruce is reading the newspaper. Natasha waves halfheartedly. 

 

“I’m making pancakes,” Bucky says. He kisses Natasha’s cheek and she swats him away.

 

Tony puts his hands together and bows. Ever the drama queen. “Bless you, Barnes. There’s no goddamn food in this household, and I was starting to actually consider oatmeal.”

 

“What’s wrong with oatmeal?” Steve asks defensively. 

 

Tony pats his shoulder. “There’s our sick little child. How’re you feeling today?” 

 

“Better,” Steve says. “But no thanks to you.”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes and starts getting out the ingredients he needs to make breakfast. And then he runs into a problem. They’re out of eggs. He swore he saw a full carton yesterday, but apparently he was wrong.    
  


“I’m gonna run to the store,” Bucky says. He gives Steve a quick kiss and swipes some cash from Clint’s unattended wallet. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

 

Bucky starts to regret not bringing a jacket once he steps outside. It’s a little chilly, and there’s a cold wind, and the sky is a miserable grey. He speed-walks to the bodega across the street, trying to avoid the hustle and bustle of New York crowds. He feels like it’s too early for so many people, but then again, it is the city, and the city never sleeps. Bucky buys the eggs as quickly as he can and hurries back to the Tower. It’s cold, and he’s hungry, and he’s narrowly avoided being recognized at least twice, and he just really, really wants to get back to Steve.

 

Steve’s not in the kitchen when Bucky gets back. 

 

Bucky puts the eggs in the fridge and looks around, eyes narrowed. “Where’s Steve?”

 

Natasha waves her hand around. “He went down to the basement freezer.”

 

Right. Like that’s a normal thing to do. Like Steve just recreationally visits the freezer all the time. 

 

Bucky nods and then heads down to see what’s up with Steve. He’s definitely been acting really weird since yesterday, and Bucky’s growing more and more anxious as time goes by. The fact that Bruce didn’t have answers for him isn’t doing anything to help; it just makes the situation a lot worse. If Bruce Banner, who has seven PhDs, can’t figure it out, then who the hell can? 

 

Bucky’s heartbeat pounds in his chest. The basement is dark, except for the small light by the freezer. It’s where they keep all the food they get from Costco, because collectively they hate grocery shopping and they only really buy healthy food once a month. As far as Bucky knows, it’s mostly full of eggos and frozen cauliflower. 

 

“Steve?” Bucky whispers. 

 

He didn’t know what to expect, but this- this really wasn’t it. Steve’s sitting by the freezer, eating raw meat straight out of the package. His face and shirt are stained with red, red blood, and there’s a wild frenzy in his eyes. 

 

Steve smiles when he sees him. “Hey, Buck.”

 

Bucky feels nauseous again. At least he learned something from all of this: he has a weak stomach. “Is that frozen?”

 

Steve looks at the basically empty package in his hands and then back up at Bucky. “This? No, I took it from the fridge. I just wanted some privacy.”

 

“Uh huh,” Bucky says. 

 

Because this is all totally, absolutely normal. Why the fuck is Steve eating raw meat, and why is he acting like it isn’t batshit crazy? Bucky rubs his eyes and takes a deep breath. There has to be an explanation for this. Maybe it’s just a parasite that’s taken over his brain, or an alien invasion, or Steve’s just actually nuts. 

 

“Give me a second,” Bucky says. And then he bolts upstairs. 

 

Everyone looks at him weirdly when he gets back, but he only cares about Bruce right now. He jerks his thumb in the direction of the basement. There’s no way he’s dealing with all that crap alone. 

 

“Bruce?” Bucky asks. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

 

Bruce seems to sense the urgency in his voice and puts down his newspaper. “Sure.”

 

Bucky doesn’t even know what to tell him, if he should give him a warning, so he stays silent until they get to Steve. Steve, who’s finished the entire package of meat, and is now leaning against the wall with his hands clasped over his stomach like he’s satisfied. 

 

Bruce doesn’t say anything for a minute. He stares at Steve, who offers him a friendly smile, and then takes his glasses off and sighs into his hand. “This is a lot to unpack.”

 

“You think?” Bucky asks, his voice an octave higher. 

 

Bruce takes a deep breath. “Well this isn’t good.” 

 

-

 

Considering all the weird shit Bucky’s seen and been through, watching Steve scarf down raw meat probably wouldn’t make it onto a top five list. Maybe a top ten. It’s kinda gross, but Bucky can’t seem to look away. He’s sitting at the other end of the breakfast table, chin on his hand, wordlessly watching. It’s borderline perverted, he thinks, but he keeps doing it anyway. Steve doesn’t seem to mind - but then again, he doesn’t seem to think his craving is weird either, so he’s probably not that reliable.

 

“You sure you don’t want some?” Steve asks, pushing what’s left of his third pack of beef towards Bucky. “I don’t think I can eat any more.”

 

Bucky wrinkles his nose. “No, I’m good. Thanks. Wait, what do you mean you can’t eat more?”

 

Steve shrugs. “It just tastes kinda bad and-”

 

His hand goes to his mouth again. Bucky leans back. He knows enough of the signs by now, and he’s mostly just hoping Steve doesn’t throw up on him. He runs to the sink and immediately vomits out all the meat he just ate. Bucky doesn’t intend to look, he just doesn’t turn away quickly enough. And now the image of Steve throwing up in the sink is forever ingrained in his mind. 

 

“Are you sure you’re feeling better?” Bucky asks. 

 

Steve wipes his mouth and nods. “Yeah, that stuff’s just nasty.”

 

Bucky’s so confused. “The meat? But you were, like, inhaling it a second ago.”

 

“I know,” Steve says. He makes a face at the empty packages on the table and tosses them in the trash. 

 

“Should I go get Bruce?” 

 

Steve shakes his head. “No, I’m fine.”

 

Bucky doesn’t think so, but okay. He doesn’t really know what to do. “Want some tea?”

 

Tea is supposed to help stomach aches, right? Bucky’s pretty sure. That’s what his mom used to do whenever he was sick. 

 

Steve smiles gratefully. “Yeah. Thanks, Buck.”

 

“No problem, babe,” Bucky says. He kisses the top of Steve’s head on his way to the kettle. 

 

Bucky gets out the chamomile and honey, and adds a drop of lemon because Steve likes his tea like that, and he hopes he added just enough love for it to work. He takes the seat across from Steve. He feels useless if he isn’t doing anything, so he hopes Steve finishes the tea in a minute and asks for more. 

 

But Steve doesn’t drink the tea. He puts his hands on the mug and stares at it with narrowed eyes, lips curled in an almost-frown. 

 

“I made it just how you like it,” Bucky says. 

 

Steve nods. “Yup.”

 

He stares at it for another solid minute, and then chugs half of it. And then he spits it back into the mug. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, pushing the mug away, “I don’t think I can drink this. It’s kinda - don’t take this the wrong way - it’s kinda… gross? I just can’t- the  _ idea _ of tea makes me sick.”

 

Bucky’s starting to think he should probably get Bruce. There’s no way this is just a stomach ache. Steve and his bullshit. If it wasn’t for his dumbass-ness, Bucky could’ve gotten him the proper treatment he deserves. 

 

“Buck,” Steve says quietly. He reaches across the table to poke Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m really hungry. And you’re starting to look good.”

 

Bucky frowns. “Like, you wanna have sex now? Maybe later, but I’m not in the mood after-”

 

“No, I’m hungry for  _ food _ ,” Steve clarifies. 

 

“What- what do you mean by that?” Bucky squirms. He needs some fresh air. “Never mind, let’s go get you something to eat.”

 

-

 

Steve’s eerily silent on the way to the bodega, hands stuffed in his pockets and head down. Bucky wants to break the silence, but he doesn’t know what to say. He just hopes Steve finds something that he’ll actually eat, and then they can leave and get back home and Bucky can scream. 

 

“Get whatever you want,” Bucky says. 

 

He wanders through the aisles, and for some reason, he keeps glancing back at the cashier. They’re the only people here, which usually isn’t a problem but is now making him even more uncomfortable. He hates admitting it, but he’s a little scared of Steve. Well, there’s nothing he can do about their whole… situation, so he might as well eat a chocolate bar and live life. 

 

Bucky’s debating between a KitKat and a Crunch when he hears a scream and something that sounds suspiciously like a bite. He grabs a KitKat and slowly walks towards the sound. He feels sick again; all he can hear is chewing and heavy breathing, and all he can think about is Steve. Where is he? Did something happen to him? Is he-

 

Bucky drops the KitKat. He’s really going to vomit this time. 

 

Steve’s hunched over the cashier’s dead body, blood running down his chin and staining his hands, pooling on the floor. He looks like he’s in the middle of eating- dear god. Bucky swallows his fear. Steve’s eating the cashier. 

 

Steve smiles hesitantly when he sees Bucky. “I’m sorry. I was just really hungry.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky barely says anything as he cleans up the mess. He mops up the blood and stuffs the body - now missing a large chunk of flesh - in a garbage bag, and then he quietly cleans Steve’s face and hands. There’s not much he can do about his shirt, though, so he just leaves that and prays the stains will come out easily. And once he’s done, and the shop looks basically as good as new, he sits down and eats his KitKat. 

 

“What the fuck?” He asks. 

 

Steve hasn’t looked at him since the incident. That’s what Bucky’s calling it now. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

 

“You ate him,” Bucky says. He shakes his head. “You fucking  _ ate _ him.”

 

Steve fidgets with his hands uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean to.”

 

Bucky sighs. He reaches out, intertwines his fingers with Steve’s, and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “I know. I’m sorry, babe. This is all just… it’s a lot.”

 

“You don’t think it’s hard for me?” Steve asks. “I’m the one who just fucking tore through a guy’s throat because I was hungry, Buck! Fuck. Fuck, I can’t, I- I don’t know what’s happening. And it’s driving me insane.”

 

Bucky scoots forward and kisses Steve, soft and slow and loving. “We’ll figure it out. We always do. Just try not to… kill anyone else for food, okay?”

 

Steve huffs out a laugh. He buries his face against Bucky and sighs. This really wasn’t how Bucky imagined spending his afternoon. 

 

“You know, it’s the only thing that tastes good,” Steve says. Cautiously. He glances at Bucky for a split second and then returns his gaze to the floor. 

 

Bucky doesn’t know what to do with that information, so instead of saying anything, he kisses Steve again. Before they leave, he puts the body in the dumpster out back and hangs the closed sign on the door. Steve holds his hand the whole way back.

 

-

 

“You’re not going to like this,” Bruce says. He pushes his glasses up and gestures to the open seat. “It’s probably a zombie virus.”

 

Bucky stares at him and sits down. “A fucking what now?”

 

Bruce sighs. “I looked at the files we got from Hydra, and it seems like they were working on some sort of virus. It, um- I didn’t tell you this yesterday because I didn’t want you to be worried, but it turned Steve’s blood to a black, goo-like substance, and-”

 

“A zombie virus?” Bucky echoes. “A fucking  _ zombie _ virus?”

 

Bruce rubs his hand on the back of his neck. “Steve must’ve been exposed to it during the mission, and then he died and came back to life. He’s undead, Bucky. That’s why I couldn’t find a heartbeat.”

 

“You didn’t find a heartbeat?” Bucky squeaks. 

 

“Look, I wish I had better news,” Bruce says. He takes a folder off his desk and thumbs through some papers. “When you told me that Steve ate a guy, that just confirmed my theory. Zombies can only eat human flesh, so unfortunately that means Steve will have to kill more people. According to Hydra’s observations, they have increased libidos too. I don’t know if that’s important or not.”

 

Well, that explains why Steve was suddenly interested in morning sex. That’s at least a good side effect of this whole being undead thing. Not ideal, but it has its perks. 

 

Bruce puts the folder away. “It’s a good thing you didn’t go to a hospital. It would’ve been a lot worse if the government found out about this.”

 

“You mean, they’d keep Steve for experiments or something?” Bucky asks. 

 

Bruce gestures vaguely. “More or less.”

 

“That’s just fucking great,” Bucky says. He takes a deep breath. “So what do we do now?”

 

-

 

Natasha doesn’t ask questions when Bucky asks her to come back to the bodega with him, and it’s such a blessing. She only raises an eyebrow when they maneuver the body out of the dumpster, and she helps Bucky shove it in the back of their official Avengers business van. 

 

“Why did we need to get a body?” She asks, once they get back to the Tower.

 

Bucky sighs. “Steve’s a zombie and he only eats humans now. He’s a cannibal, I guess.”

 

Natasha blinks at him. “Hmm. Exposure from Hydra, right?”

 

“That’s what Bruce says.” 

 

Natasha nods. She drums her fingers on the dashboard. “What are we gonna do with the body?”

 

“We have to get a second fridge,” Bucky says. 

 

Natasha pats his shoulder and helps him take the body to the basement, where it can rot and stink all it wants until they find a fridge to shove it in. 

 

Bucky frowns at the body. “I’m gonna go tell Steve his dinner’s here.”

 

Natasha shrugs again and starts to walk away, but Bucky reaches out and grabs her wrist. He knows he probably sounds pathetic, but he really doesn’t want to be alone now. She gives him a sympathetic smile. 

 

“How aren’t you freaking out?” Bucky asks, a little panicked. His heart is pounding, his hands are clammy, he feels like his throat is constricting. “I’m freaking out, Nat. I’d be fucking screaming if I was you. I think I’m gonna-”

 

Natasha puts a comforting hand on his arm. “It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve ever come across.”

 

Well, isn’t that a relief. Bucky closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and counts to ten. He just needs to calm down. 

 

“I need to scream,” Bucky says. 

 

He lets out a raw, loud, high-pitched scream, and surprisingly, it helps him feel better.

 

-

 

In the time it takes Steve to eat an arm and half a lung, Bruce and Tony manage to find a decent-sized freezer. Tony complains the whole time they get it set up about how he never got special treatment when he had food poisoning, but Steve does because he’s a zombie. 

 

“Shut up, Stark,” Natasha says, rolling her eyes. 

 

Tony holds his hands up defensively. “I’m just saying.”

 

“Well, when you’re undead you can get your own fridge,” Bucky grumbles. He glances over at Steve, who’s been napping against the wall for the past twenty minutes. He thinks it’d be a lot worse if Steve could hear what Tony’s saying.

 

“Thank you,” Tony says. He not-so-subtly glares at Natasha, and she just shrugs. 

 

Setting up the freezer goes about as well as it can considering none of them know how to read instructions properly, and then comes the hard part. Bucky has to cut the body into meal-sized chunks, whatever the fuck that even means, and then he has to shove all the bits into giant ziplocs and put them in the freezer. He never thought his life would come to this, but here he is. Standing over a half-eaten dead body that, for the first time, doesn’t have anything to do with him. 

 

“Do you need help with that?” Tony asks, gesturing at the body. 

 

Bucky shakes his head. “I think I’m good.”

 

“Thank  _ god _ .” Tony holds his hands up like he’s praying. “I was just trying to be nice.”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes. He waits until everyone else is upstairs, and then he takes one of the knives he brought down and starts hacking away. 

 

-

 

Steve wakes up when Bucky’s halfway done cutting up his food, and he watches quietly until it’s time to bag it all. Then he offers to help, and with a smile like that, Bucky can’t say no.

 

“I appreciate this, really,” Steve says, while he’s shoving half an arm in a ziploc. “Everything you’re doing.” He kisses Bucky’s cheek. “Thank you.”

 

Bucky shrugs, trying not to look at the organs he’s putting away. Is it a lung? A kidney? He doesn’t want to know. “It’s nothing, babe. I just-” He pauses, runs a hand through his hair. “I know it’s hard, I know you never wanted this, and… and sure, I’m probably gonna vomit a lot, but I want you to know you’re not alone in this. That’s the most important thing.”

 

Steve ducks his head, but not before Bucky gets a glimpse of the blush dusting his cheeks. 

 

“I love you,” Bucky says. He wraps his arms around Steve’s waist, bag of human flesh in his hands and all. He just wants Steve to know he still loves him, will always love him no matter what, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he’s okay. 

 

Steve kisses Bucky softly and whispers, “I love you too.” 

 

They stay like that, swaying in each other’s arms, for a good few minutes until the stink of the rotting meat starts to get to Bucky’s head and he remembers, unfortunately, that they have most of a body to bag and freeze. He’d be content to stay like this, though.

 

“Come on,” he says. “When we’re done with your food, we can do whatever you want.”

 

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Anything?”

 

Bucky sighs, but he cracks a smile anyway. “Except killing people, you’ve got enough of that for a week.”

 

Steve laughs, and Bucky suddenly doesn’t mind stuffing a human body in the freezer. 

 

-

 

Natasha’s cooking something that smells amazing when they finish with the body, and Bucky almost feels bad for Steve because he can’t eat it. Almost. The good part is it means he’ll have more. 

 

“Hey, why wasn’t Clint helping?” Bucky asks. 

 

Clint’s sitting at the breakfast table, eating straight out of a bag of chips. He’s already in his pajamas - the traitor. 

 

“I’m not good at building things,” Clint says, with a mouthful of salt and vinegar chips. Firstly, it was a  _ freezer _ . Secondly, only barbarians eat salt and vinegar chips. “So I thought I’d just stay here and not be in the way.” He nods at Steve. “There’s our resident zombie.” 

 

Bucky rolls his eyes and steals one of Clint’s chips. “You’re on dish duty for a month, Barton.”

 

Clint gasps in mock surprise. “You’re a tyrant! The concept of freedom is but a fleeting thought in this household.”

 

“Where did you read that?” Natasha asks, laughing. “The internet? There’s no way you came up with that yourself.”

 

Bucky tastes whatever Natasha’s cooking - he pleasantly finds out it’s a mild green curry - and they all sit down to have dinner once he’s approved it. Natasha fills everyone’s bowls, and hesitates when she sees Steve. Just sitting there. 

 

“Are you hungry?” Bucky asks. “I could go get you something from the freezer.”

 

Steve glances around uncomfortably and shifts in his seat. “No, I’m good.”

 

Bucky narrows his eyes. That sounds like a fat lie, but Steve’s a big boy, so if he’s hungry he can feed himself. He knows where the freezer is. 

 

Tony and Clint spend the whole time talking about some “hilarious” puppy video they saw, and neither of them really manage to explain what’s funny about it. All Bucky understands is that there was a puppy, and it looked like a Labrador but neither of them are really sure. Then again, that might also be because he was watching Steve the entire time they were talking. Steve’s the most stubborn dumbass Bucky has ever known. He could’ve just asked for Bucky to get him an arm, or a leg, or whatever it is he wants, but instead he chose to sit here and sulk. 

 

“You sure you’re not hungry?” Bucky whispers, reaching over to put his hand on Steve’s. 

 

Steve nods. “Yeah, stop asking me.”

 

“Okay,” Bucky says. “It’s just- never mind.”

 

Steve gives him a weird look, but he doesn’t say anything else. Bucky wishes he could crawl under the table and perhaps live there for eternity. 

 

-

 

Bucky senses that something’s off the minute they get upstairs. Even though it was Steve who dragged him to their room and rushed to close the door, he seems a little out of it. Like he lost interest the minute Bucky leaned in to kiss him. All his actions just seem distant. 

 

Bucky steps back as soon as Steve tries to half-heartedly pull him onto the bed. The sexy vibe is immediately killed, and Bucky can feel his boner going away, and now he feels ridiculous. Steve only notices when he leans forward to kiss Bucky and instead falls on his hands. 

 

“What’s going on?” Bucky asks. 

 

Steve frowns. “Aw, you ruined the fun.”

 

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Me? Steve, you’re the one who’s acting like you’re doing me a favour. I know something’s bothering you.”

 

Steve doesn’t say anything, and then he dramatically flops down and sighs, arms spread out like he’s making a snow angel. 

 

“It’s nothing really,” Steve says, and that’s how Bucky knows it’s something that’s been weighing on his mind for a while. “I just can’t stop thinking about that- the guy I… killed. I feel bad. He didn’t deserve it. I was just really hungry, and I couldn’t- it’s all I can think about.”

 

Bucky sits on the edge of the bed. Well, that’s a lot to unpack. He feels a little guilty now; he never stopped to consider how Steve felt about the situation. About being undead. About having to eat humans for the rest of his not-life. 

 

“It’s not your fault,” Bucky says, and then cringes because that sounds really superficial. This is why he can’t be a therapist. “This kind of thing, babe, it takes time to get under control. And sure, killing some random person isn’t ideal.” Steve snorts. “But we’ll work through it together. Okay?”

 

When Bucky looks over at Steve, he’s blushing and smiling and he looks all soft and warm. That’s how Bucky likes him best, if he’s being completely honest. 

 

“You’re such a sap,” Steve says.

 

Bucky crawls to him and pulls him close, and they fall on the mattress in a tangle of limbs, and it’s absolutely perfect. They cuddle together, neither of them saying much, until Bucky eventually falls asleep.

 

-

 

Bucky’s mostly surprised that he’s alone in bed when he wakes up. He was half expecting Steve to be there, weirdly energetic and horny, and if he was hoping to be woken up with a blowjob, that’s entirely Steve’s fault. Instead, he’s still disappointingly in his pajamas, and the sunlight coming through the open window is blinding him. 

 

“That’s fun,” Bucky grumbles. 

 

He almost considers staying in bed like a grumpy old man, but then he hears the unmistakable sound of a blender, and he can’t believe someone’s making smoothies without waiting for him. It’s downright illegal. It’s common knowledge that Bucky’s the only one who has a good fruit to yogurt ratio in his smoothies, and therefore, no one else is allowed to make them without his consultation. He would even call this disrespectful.

 

Reluctantly, Bucky gets out of bed, runs a hand through his hair and hopes it isn’t terribly messy, and begrudgingly goes downstairs. The kitchen is suspiciously empty. There seems to be no one there except Steve, who’s pouring something red into a cup. And Bucky’s appetite is gone, just like that. 

 

“Bucky!” Steve says, way too chipper for such an ungodly hour. “Do you want some coffee?”

 

Bucky tries to look away from the human smoothie. “Uh, sure. Thanks. Are you- is that…?”

 

Steve raises his cup, and there’s a vaguely proud smile on his face. “Pretty neat, isn’t it? I figured I’d get sick of the, uh… the stuff in the freezer, so I thought I’d try this. I’m kinda surprised it even worked.”

 

“The blender has knives,” Bucky says. As if Steve didn’t know that. “Knives. At the bottom. It chops things up.”

 

Steve’s smile slowly turns down. “...Yeah? I know that. Are you okay, Buck?”

 

“Fine,” Bucky says, waving his hand for added emphasis. Steve doesn’t look like he believes him. “Well, it’s just weird, is all. I’ll get used to it eventually, though.”

 

Steve nods. “I get it. Takes time, right?”

 

Bucky shuffles to the breakfast table and waits until Steve brings him a mug of freshly brewed coffee. God, it smells amazing. Steve’s always been good at making coffee; it’s just one of his many attractive qualities. 

 

“Have I ever told you how much I appreciate you?” Bucky asks. He inhales half of his coffee and leans back.

 

Steve bats his eyelashes. “You should say it more often.”

 

Bucky snorts. “Don’t push it.”

 

Steve leans across the table and kisses Bucky, slow and sweet, and Bucky eventually pushes away before they both get all hot and bothered. He does have a cup of delicious coffee to drink, and he doesn’t want to risk being caught by someone. Mostly Tony. Especially Tony. 

 

“Give me five minutes,” Bucky says, flashing Steve a seductive smirk and winking, for added effect.

 

Steve smiles at him. “One minute.”

 

“Thirty seconds,” Bucky says, and then he chugs the rest of his coffee, wipes his mouth on his hand, and hauls Steve out of his chair for another kiss. 

 

They stumble upstairs, both too caught up in each other to care much when they run into the corner. Bucky’s pretty sure he hears Clint at some point, but that doesn’t matter, not when Steve’s guiding him to their bed and he’s fumbling to get his shirt off and they’re kissing like they’ll die if they part. 

 

Bucky presses Steve against the mattress and kisses fervently down his neck and chest, and stops just above the hem of his sweats. He ghosts his fingers over his thigh, smiling to himself as Steve squirms under his touch, and then he slides back up and kisses Steve teasingly. 

 

“Enough with that sappy bullshit,” Steve whispers against his lips. “Fuck me hard.”

 

-

 

“Ah, fuck! Shit!” Bucky hisses. He winces as he tries to get up, his ankle throbbing with pain. Fuck whoever left boxes on the ground like this. 

 

Sam’s standing in front of him, arms crossed, half-smiling. And then Bucky remembers - Sam’s supposed to be moving in to the Tower today. Well, that’s just perfect. Really great timing. 

 

“Stop leaving your fucking boxes everywhere,” Bucky says. 

 

Sam looks like he’s holding back a laugh, which is rude and unfair. “Maybe you just need to look where you’re going.”

 

“Fuck you,” Bucky says. 

 

Sam holds his hands up. “Whoa, Barnes. What did I do to you, man?”

 

Bucky sits down and sighs. “Nothing, Sam. I’m the idiot, I know. Sorry, it’s just- there’s a lot on my mind right now, and I was distracted, I guess. Sorry again.”

 

“Is it Steve?” Sam asks. 

 

It takes Bucky a second to register what he said. He looks up, frowning. There’s no way Sam knows about the whole being-undead thing, right? Steve would’ve told him if he talked to Sam about it. 

 

“What about Steve?” Bucky narrows his eyes, hoping he doesn’t sound suspicious. 

 

Sam gestures vaguely. “You know. The zombie thing.”

 

Bucky lets out a deep breath. “Ah, fuck. That. When did Steve tell you?”

 

“Like half an hour ago?”

 

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “How are you so calm about this? Why am I the only one freaking the fuck out?”

 

Sam sits down across from him and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t say I’m calm, Barnes. Look, everyone’s dealing with this in their own way. Clint’s reading everything in some zombie lore reddit thing, and Tony’s watching Drag Race-”

 

“How the fuck is  _ that _ relevant?” Bucky asks. 

 

Sam shakes his head and laughs. “I don’t know. I’m dealing with this the best way I can, which means supporting Steve and not accidentally taking something from his fridge. It’s gonna be real weird for a while, that’s for sure. Maybe you should talk to him?”

 

“Already did,” Bucky mumbles. He glances at the boxes around them. “Do you want some help with all this?”

 

Sam smiles and helps him up, clapping him on the back. “I’d appreciate that.”

 

-

 

Steve’s giving Bucky his weird, suspicious face the minute they get back to their room after dinner. Bucky usually doesn’t mind silence, but today was borderline awkward. No one seemed to be able to avoid staring at the literal human bits on Steve’s plate, and Bucky’s pretty sure Steve noticed. They could barely keep a conversation going either, which made it a shitty first dinner for Sam. 

 

“What?” Bucky asks. He tries to avoid Steve’s gaze as he changes into his pajamas. 

 

Steve shrugs. “You’re being weird.”

 

Bucky whips his head up. “Am not.”

 

“You kinda are,” Steve says. 

 

“As if  _ you're  _ never weird,” Bucky snaps. He rubs his hand over his face and takes a deep breath. 

 

Steve holds his hands up defensively. “Hey, I'm weird for a good reason. You're just being an asshole right now. Seriously, babe. What's up?”

 

Bucky flops down on the bed and lets out a long, dramatic sigh. He can't believe this is what his life has come to. 

 

“Buck?” Steve asks quietly. He wraps his arms around Bucky and snuggles in against him. 

 

Bucky closes his eyes and says, “It's just gonna take some time to get used to. I think you already know that, and I know it's hard for you too, but Steve… this is a pretty shitty situation to be in. I'm just gonna need time.”

 

Steve hums against his shoulder. “That's okay. I get it.”

 

Bucky rolls over and presses his forehead against Steve's. When it's just the two of them, alone and vulnerable and disgustingly domestic, Bucky doesn't pay attention to Steve's undead-ness. Here, Steve is just Steve. 

 

Bucky's eyes snap open. “I have an idea.”

 

“Hmm?” Steve mumbles, eyes closed. He looks like he's about to fall asleep any minute, so Bucky shakes him until he makes a sound that somewhat resembles English. “What? What is it?”

 

Bucky sits up and clasps his hands together. “Okay, hear me out. I think this is actually a good idea. What if, whenever you need… food, we just kill a Hydra agent? Or a Nazi or, like, someone equally shitty. It'd be a two-in-one kinda thing.”

 

Steve stares at the bed for a while, drumming his fingers like he does when he's thinking hard. Just as Bucky starts to think that maybe his idea wasn't all that great, Steve smiles slow and menacingly gleeful and says, “I'm down.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's anything you guys want me to tag, please let me know! Chapter 3 will be up next Friday! As usual, I'm on tumblr @mattmuwudock, so come say hi!! Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky gets used to the whole cannibalism-slash-zombie thing faster than he expected. Barely a week passed since the incident and he's making Steve a nice flesh smoothie in the mornings as he makes coffee. Steve seems to appreciate it, so Bucky continues, even though some part of him thinks it might be a little too much. Like he's embracing this a lot more than he probably should.

 

Bucky's also the one who brings up the issue of the dwindling meat supply. He's a good boyfriend, and he'd like to see anyone try and say he's not. 

 

“I think it should last a few more days,” Steve says, frowning at his mostly empty freezer. 

 

Bucky shrugs. “Well, if you eat three bags a day, you'll run out in two days and I'm kinda too busy to go out with you and get some more and-”

 

“Wait,” Steve interrupts. “Did you actually calculate how long this'll last?”

 

Bucky blinks at him. “Uh, yeah? I don't see a problem.”

 

“There's no problem.” Steve's smiling like an absolute fool, like he's about to burst into laughter. Well, the joke's on him, because if Bucky hadn't done the math he'd starve. 

 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “So if you're free today, I was thinking we could maybe go kill a Nazi?”

 

“I’d love to,” Steve says.

 

Their romantic moment is ruined by Clint’s heavy breathing as he comes downstairs. He gestures in the vague direction of the open door. 

 

“Pepper’s back,” Clint wheezes. 

 

It takes Bucky a second to remember what Clint’s talking about. “Already? Hmm. I thought it was gonna be longer.”

 

Clint shrugs. “Two weeks according to Tony. Come on, we can’t miss Her Majesty’s arrival.”

 

Clint drags Bucky upstairs by his wrist before he even has time to protest. Steve follows them with an amused smile and a huff of laughter. When they get to the common room, where everyone is already huddled as nonchalantly as possible, Tony’s running around, squawking about things not being clean and too much dust and Pepper’s gonna freak if she sees this, and even though it’s a little terrifying, it’s more entertaining than anything else. Natasha looks like she’s trying really hard to not laugh.

 

“Guys!” Tony shrieks, once he notices that literally no one else is doing anything. “We can’t make it obvious we haven’t cleaned this whole time! We can’t let Pepper know we  _ live _ here!”

 

“I think she already knows,” Natasha says, and then she finally lets out a loud, full-bellied laugh.

 

Bucky follows Natasha’s gaze, and the look on Tony’s face is absolutely priceless. Pepper’s standing in the hallway, her suitcase by her feet, arms crossed. She doesn’t seem mad though, so Bucky figures she’s mostly amused. 

 

Tony blinks. “Shit. I didn’t- I thought you’d- you weren't supposed to-”

 

“Tony,” Pepper says, flashing him a pretty smile. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen your mess-”

 

Tony frowns and sputters, “It isn’t  _ all _ mine.”

 

Pepper waves a hand and pulls him into a hug. Tony relaxes, and she kisses his cheek. Bucky catches Natasha’s attention and pretends to gag. She just rolls her eyes and gives him the finger. Always a pleasure, that one.

 

“It’s fine,” Pepper says. “But I do still want you to clean this place up. When was the last time you vacuumed? When I left?”

 

Clint shrugs. “Something like that.”

 

Pepper shakes her head, but she’s still smiling, so that’s a good thing. “Dear god, you guys really do need a babysitter. I’m going to go unpack.”

 

To no one’s surprise, Tony follows her upstairs, blubbering out several shitty excuses as to why he hasn’t done any chores. Just as Bucky starts to think he’s free to go kill Steve’s dinner, Clint drags him to the couch for a Mario Karts tournament.

 

“Why would I ever want to play video games with you?” Bucky asks, reluctantly accepting the remote Natasha shoves in his hands.

 

Clint grins like an idiot. “That’s a trick question. I’m assuming it was rhetorical? Well, it doesn’t matter. You’re playing at least one round, even if you don’t want to. I gotta beat you at something.”

 

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You? You honestly think you’re gonna win?”

 

“He’s convinced,” Natasha says. 

 

Bucky makes sure he’s player one before Clint can even think about stealing the top half of the screen. He can’t turn down a competition; it’s a weakness. “Oh, you’re  _ so _ on.”

 

-

 

Bucky will never admit this as long as he lives, but Clint is shockingly good at Mario Karts. He almost got in first place on Rainbow Road, which has always been the one thing no one could beat Bucky at. He was always the Mario Karts champion, but now he has real competition. It’s a little relieving, because everyone else sucks and it’s not funny anymore, but he’s also scared of losing his title. 

 

“One more round?” Clint asks, giving Bucky his merciless puppy face.

 

Bucky groans. “We’ve played like four rounds. Maybe we should take a break.”

 

“Breaks are for cowards,” Clint says. 

 

Before Bucky even has a chance to argue, Clint starts up Coconut Mall, and Bucky has no choice but to try and bump into him as much as he can. He finishes the game with twenty points more than Clint, which isn’t surprising at all, but is maybe embarrassing for Clint. Not that Bucky cares or anything. 

 

“I'll win next time,” Clint mutters. 

 

Bucky snorts. “There won't be a next time, Barton.”

 

Clint laughs and leans back against the couch. “That's what you think.”

 

Bucky sees Pepper come downstairs then, and he tries to wave and get her to come over and defend him, but she just rolls her eyes. So he can't trust anyone in this entire household. That's how it's going to be. 

 

“Please, Pepper?” Bucky asks, trying his best to be pitiful and adorable at the same time. “Please, please, please? Barton’s holding me here against my will.”

 

Pepper shakes her head. “I would help, honestly, but I have a feeling I'm going to Costco today. When was the last time you guys went shopping? Never mind, don't answer that. Have fun with Clint.”

 

Bucky narrows his eyes and huffs. He might as well play a few more rounds with Clint, seeing as he doesn't have much of a choice and Steve's going to call him a party pooper if he leaves, like the traitor he is. 

 

“Fine, I guess,” Bucky grumbles. 

 

Pepper flashes him a deceptively friendly smile as she heads downstairs, and then it registers. She's going to the basement, to check what they have in the freezer before she heads out--but they now have  _ two _ freezers, and she doesn't know the difference, and shit, Bucky should've thought about this before. 

 

“Fuck,” Bucky hisses. Steve gives him a weird look. “Pepper. Freezer.”

 

Steve’s eyes go wide. “Oh.  _ Oh _ . We should probably-”

 

They’re interrupted by a scream that definitely sounds like it’s coming from the basement. Bucky looks at Steve. Steve stares back at him. They both scramble to get downstairs, running as fast as they can without getting stuck in the staircase (which was built for one supersoldier, not two). Pepper’s standing in front of Steve’s freezer, mouth open. The few remaining bags of frozen body bits are on display, out in the open, completely uncovered. 

 

Bucky takes a deep breath and says, “I can explain.”

 

-

 

Pepper doesn’t say anything the whole time they explain the situation to her. She’s just sitting there, staring blankly at the wall. Bucky isn’t even sure she’s alive at this point. And Steve isn’t doing anything to help; he’s a nervous wreck, constantly fidgeting, on edge as if Pepper’s going to snap at him any moment. Bucky wishes there was something he could do, but he knows Pepper’s just going to need time to adjust. He’s still not really used to the fact that his boyfriend eats people, and he’s had a lot more time to deal with it. Poor Pepper is just finding out today.

 

“And there’s no need to worry about… uh, getting eaten,” Tony says, placing a hesitant hand on Pepper’s shoulder. “Steve promised he’d never do that. It’s gonna be okay, honey. Right?”

 

Steve nods distantly and completely ignores Tony’s glare. “Yup.”

 

Natasha nudges Bucky’s side and whispers, “Awkward.”

 

Pepper still doesn’t say anything, but she does blink, which Bucky thinks is a good start. Tony’s starting to look a little desperate, so Bucky shakes his head and mouths,  _ give her time _ . He knows that if he were in Pepper’s place, he’d want to be left alone for a bit. He’s assuming Pepper would like that too.

 

Pepper blinks slowly, sighs, and says, “I need whiskey.”

 

She gets up and absentmindedly heads to the kitchen before anyone gets a chance to say something. Tony takes her seat and rubs his hand across his face. Okay, so that went a lot more different than planned. 

 

“Yikes,” Clint says. “It must be really serious if Pepper’s drinking.”

 

-

 

Bucky waits until Pepper’s had a good hour alone before he goes to talk to her. She’s sitting on the edge of her and Tony’s bed, hands folded on her lap, eyes downcast. Come to think of it, Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever been inside their room. It’s a lot cleaner and way less extravagant than he imagined, and it really seems like Pepper got most of the say when it came to decorating. Bucky likes it.

 

“Hey, Pepper?” He asks. Pepper glances up at him. “Can I come in?”

 

Pepper gestures at the bed, and Bucky hesitantly sits beside her. He doesn’t know where to start, or what to say - no one ever gave him the So Your Friend’s A Zombie, Now What? talk, and it’s not like there’s a manual for it anyway. Well, as far as Bucky knows. The world  _ is _ a weird place. 

 

“Nothing really changed, you know,” Bucky says softly. 

 

Pepper huffs. “Except for the zombie thing.”

 

“Well, okay, except for that,” Bucky says. Pepper half-smiles, and that’s a good start, so he continues. “But Steve’s the same. He’s still a dumbass, still the same big oaf with a heart of gold and maybe two brain cells. We’ve got it all figured out. And you’ll never be in danger around him, okay? I promise. If you need more time, I get it. I’ll leave you alone if you want. I just wanted to make sure-”

 

Pepper takes Bucky’s hand and squeezes it gently. “Thanks, Bucky. I think I’ll be okay. How are you holding up, though?”

 

Bucky blinks. “Me? I’m- I’m good. Yeah. I- I’ve made my peace with it.”

 

Pepper pulls him in for a hug, and Bucky feels like he finally got some good out of this situation.

 

-

 

Bucky presses Steve into the mattress, one hand fumbling with his jeans and the other pinning him down. The air is hot and thick; there is nothing but Steve’s ragged breath and Bucky’s loud, fervent kisses. Steve pants, hands clawing at Bucky’s back, tangling in his hair. He tilts his head up, and Bucky takes advantage of his exposed neck, trailing his lips down, nipping at the sensitive skin by his collarbone.

 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Bucky says. He crawls forward until he’s looking down at Steve’s blown-out pupils. “So vulnerable. All mine.”

 

Steve nods breathlessly and pulls Bucky in for another kiss, but Bucky puts a finger on his lips and shakes his head. He feels Steve squirm under him, restless, but he won’t get hi s release. Not yet. Bucky’s gotta have some fun first.

“Say it,” Bucky whispers, leaning in as close as he dares. He shifts his position and slowly reaches his hand to palm Steve through his pants. 

Steve whines and clenches his hands into fists against the mattress. “I’m- ah, fuck, I’m yours. I- Buck, I-  _ fuck fuck fuck _ , you gotta- I’m not- please-”

Bucky presses down harder. Fuck, he doesn’t even know how long he’s going to last like this. “Ask nicely and maybe I will,” he whispers, and then he moves his hand and kisses Steve as rough as he can. 

It’s messy and wet and loud, and it’s all Bucky wants. His teeth clash with Steve’s, and his breaths are short and heavy, and he thinks he could probably get Steve off with just a kiss and a handjob, at this rate. He pulls back and hovers above him, and  _ god _ , is he beautiful. Flushed and breathless and absolutely ruined; his hair’s a mess, his lips are bright red, there’s a bruise blossoming on his chest. Bucky’s never been very religious, but he likes to imagine this is what heaven looks like. 

“Please,” Steve whispers, biting his lip, and if Bucky wasn’t hard before, he definitely is now. “Buck, please, I-”

Bucky shuts him up with a rough, demanding kiss, and Steve instinctively raises a hand to cup his face. This time, their kiss is softer and sweeter, glazed in honey. Bucky smiles against Steve’s lips and slowly tugs his jeans down, and lets himself get lost in Steve’s touch. 

-

“Fuck,” Steve pants. “I feel like you ripped my asshole.”

Bucky hums. His eyes are closed, his arm resting on his stomach, and he’s content. He almost decides to stay silent, but this is too great an opportunity to pass up. “You asked for it,” he says. 

Steve evidently ignores him. He rolls over, ass completely in the open, and shoves his head in his arms. His voice is muffled. “I’m gonna need plastic surgery. They’re gonna make me a fake ass, and then what’ll we do? You’ll keep fucking me like this, and I’ll have to get it replaced every week? That’s no way to live.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky huffs, rolling his eyes. He props himself up, sighs, and flops back down. Steve’s ass, unsurprisingly, is not gone to waste. “You’re fine. You just can’t handle my dick.”

Steve’s suddenly very interested in what Bucky has to say. He narrows his eyes, as if he’s trying to seem threatening. That’s laughable. Ten minutes ago, he was crying and begging for Bucky to fuck him harder, face scrunched up adorably and hands clawing at the mattress. There’s no way he can be intimidating now.

“Says who?” Steve hisses. 

Bucky huffs. “You, apparently.”

Steve shoves his shoulder. “Is that a challenge?”

Bucky lets out a breathy laugh and pulls Steve in for a soft kiss, and just as he’s about to suggest that Steve should take up that challenge, they’re interrupted by Steve’s phone, vibrating loudly on the bedside table. Steve groans.

“Fuck, that’s probably Tony,” Steve grumbles.

Bucky frowns. “Tony? What’s he want with you?”

Steve reluctantly sits up and grabs his phone. He’s so cute, Bucky’s tempted to just pull him back down and kiss him senseless. But he won’t, because whatever Tony wants might actually be important. He’d be surprised, but it’s still a possibility.

Steve’s grinning at his phone, and Bucky can’t decide if that’s good or bad. “There’s a Hydra alert. Guess what we’re doing?”

Bucky sighs. “Catching your dinner?”

Steve just smiles. “And we don’t have time to waste.”

Bucky reluctantly gets dressed, and his uniform feels heavier than it ever has. Steve looks so good in his suit, he can barely think of anything else; it hugs him in all the right places. It’s incredibly distracting, and it takes all of Bucky's will to not lock the door and shove him against the wall. And  _ this _ is why they never have sex before missions. 

Steve notices him staring and flashes a sly grin. "Oh, you like the view?" 

Bucky wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close. "Very much."

Steve hums, traces his jaw with a teasing finger, and kisses Bucky slowly. Bucky closes his eyes and tilts his head to deepen the kiss, drink him in, and just as he feels the familiar slide of Steve's tongue, Steve pulls back. His cheeks are dusted with a light blush, and there's lust pooling in his eyes, and he looks gloriously ruined. Tony's gonna have a field day. 

"Maybe later," Steve says, a little breathless, and dear  _ god _ , the things that does to Bucky. He puts a firm hand on Bucky's chest. "Priorities."

"Hilarious," Bucky deadpans. 

He grabs his favourite handgun on the way out and shoves it in his holster. When they get downstairs, everyone's waiting for them. Natasha waves at them, a knife in her hand, and - she's smirking. Bucky lets out a long sigh. Steve doesn't seem to notice, which is probably for the best. Unless turning into a zombie suddenly made him an exhibitionist, and he's secretly enjoying the risk of getting caught. Bucky probably shouldn't think about that - not now, anyway. He needs to stay focused on the mission. 

Tony grins. "So I guess it wasn't an earthquake."

Steve frowns. Bucky wants to die. "What earthquake, I didn't hear-" His eyes go wide. "Shut up, Stark."

"I'm moving out," Bucky says, shouldering past Steve. 

Natasha pats him when he walks by. "You have nowhere else to go." 

"I hate that, thanks," Bucky grumbles. 

Tony waves his hand dismissively and pulls up a hologram from his watch. “I’ve been notified that there’s Hydra activity here, so we better act fast. Abandoned factory in Astoria, supposed to be demolished next week.”

“Who informed you?” Natasha asks. She’s always gotta ask questions, never content with the little information she’s given. Bucky sometimes wishes he cared enough to ask too. 

Tony blinks. “Uh, some kid. Name’s Peter.”

“Some kid?” Natasha narrows her eyes, arms crossed, and okay, Bucky has to admit, that is kind of suspicious. “How do you know him?”

Tony shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. He’s reliable. Come on, let’s go get Cap’s dinner.”

-

Bucky feels uneasy when they get to Astoria. He’s pretty sure it’s because when Steve kills a human for food, the rest of the Avengers will be there. This isn’t just an accident at some bodega; it’s a planned operative. A mission to kill. And they’re all waking in that factory knowing what they’re going to witness. Bucky doesn’t have an issue with them being okay with Steve’s new diet; in fact, he’s actually kind of glad. A support system is never a bad thing. He just has an issue with not being the only one there when Steve does his thing. And, okay, maybe it’s a little messed up, but there’s something intimate about the way Steve kills. Something borderline erotic about the way he bites, the blood running down his chin and staining his teeth, the not-quite-human hunger in his eyes. Bucky’s too far gone, so he’s not going to deny he might maybe find it attractive. Okay, it’s really hot, and Bucky kind of thinks that another person’s presence would just make it weirder than it already is. 

“Barnes?”

Bucky blinks. Tony stares at him for a second before cracking up. That man couldn’t keep a straight face if his life depended on it.

“Too busy thinking about sex?” Tony asks.

Bucky wishes he had something to throw at him, but he doesn’t want to get his knives dirty. “I was not.”

Tony shrugs absentmindedly. “Well, you look like it. Got the raging boner face and everything.”

Bucky ducks his head before Tony can see his blush. Okay, so he wasn’t explicitly thinking about sex, but he was thinking about something that really turns him on, and that’s basically the same thing. It counts in the same “dirty thoughts” category, anyway. 

“Can we just get on with this?” Steve asks, rolling his eyes.

Tony puts his helmet on. Bucky’s always hated it. Too much machine, too less human. 

“Here’s the plan,” Tony says. “Nat, Clint and me go in through the main entrance. If there’s Hydra intel, we’ll find it and get it. If it’s just a bunch of Nazis running around, we’ll deal with it. Barnes, you’re with Cap. Use the back door, do what you gotta do, meet us back here when you’re done. Bruce will make sure none of that gets on camera. Everyone knows the plan?”

Bucky nods. He’s kind of excited he gets to be alone with Steve, just the two of them and whoever ends up as Steve’s dinner. When he puts it that way, it sounds a little messed up, but he’s used to that by now. Literally nothing seems weird to him anymore.

“Come  _ on _ ,” Steve whines, dragging Bucky behind him.

Natasha winks and calls out, “Good luck, loverboy!”

Bucky gives her a thumbs up.

-

Bucky doesn’t know how long they’ve been waiting, but his legs are starting to get numb and he can’t sit anymore. He’s on his fifth game of Words With Friends, and this time, he thinks he might actually beat Sam. He’s interrupted by a quiet rumbling and Steve groaning.

Bucky bites his tongue to stop his laughter. “Was that your stomach?”

“I’m hungry, shut up,” Steve says. He’s changed his position at least five times, and now he’s squatting, and it’s highlighting his ass too much.

To stop himself from fucking Steve right then and there, Bucky scoots over and pokes his side. 

“You’re it,” he says.

Steve looks at his outstretched hand and frowns. “What?”

“I tagged you, so you’re it,” Bucky explains. Steve just blinks at him. “I’m bored.”

Steve hums and crosses his legs. “Yeah, me too. I’d suggest we- but Bruce is watching.”

“So you’re not into that, huh?” Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow. He could’ve sworn.

Steve blushes. “No.”

He looks at his shield for a long minute, picks it up and lets out a soft huff, and then he just tosses it across the room. The shield falls to the floor, and something follows with a heavy thud. Steve looks at Bucky. Bucky looks at Steve.

“Oh, shit,” Steve breathes, eyes wide. “Was that a person?”

They scramble up, and sure enough, there’s an unconscious Hydra agent lying next to the shield. Well, isn’t that lucky.

“Is he dead?” Bucky asks.

Steve kneels down and presses his hand against the man’s neck. “He will be.”

Bucky lowers his voice an octave and whispers, “Ooh, sexy.”

Steve shoves his shoulder and honestly, he kind of deserves it. Steve grunts as he stands up again and puts his hands on his hips. He nudges the man with his foot. 

"Hmm," Steve says. 

And then, without warning, he bites down on the man's artery, and blood starts gushing out, spraying on their uniforms and pooling on the ground. Bucky doesn't even wince. He would call that a skill. Steve absentmindedly wipes his blood-stained hands on his pants and then tears off part of the man's shirt to cover the wound. 

"Can't be wasteful," Steve says, flashing Bucky a smile. 

Bucky huffs. "How terrible that would be. A real tragedy."

"Well, it's just like eating a steak," Steve says. "Medium rare is better."

Bucky blinks several times. "I don't think the way you eat can be called 'medium rare,' but okay. Also, that's really fucked up."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Help me get this out, will you?" 

Bucky kisses his cheek. “Only because I love you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's exam season, so the next chapter will probably be up in 2 weeks. Once again, let me know if I should tag anything! I'm on tumblr @mattmuwudock, come say hi!! Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like my update schedule's gonna be all screwed up for the next few weeks, since I'm starting a summer course in July that's gonna take up a lot of time. Hopefully I'll be uploading consistently! On the plus side, exams are over!

Sam’s been standing in front of the mirror, smoothing down the non-existent wrinkles on his shirt, for a good few minutes. Bucky would leave him be, but he’s already invested in whatever this is, and he’s basically obligated to say something.

 

“What are you doing?” He asks.

 

Sam clears his throat, as if he didn’t realize Bucky was here this whole time. “Nothing.”

 

Bucky closes his book and makes quotation marks with his hands. “Nothing. Sure, okay. And Steve’s not an undead bitch.”

 

“What does Steve have to do with this?” Sam asks, frowning.

 

Bucky shrugs. “It’s a fact. Look, I’m just wondering why you’re so obsessed with how you look. Are you going out?”

 

Sam rolls his eyes. “If I was, I wouldn’t tell you.”

 

“So you have a date?” Bucky asks, grinning slyly.

 

“I’m just having dinner with a friend,” Sam says.

 

If that isn’t code for date, Bucky doesn’t know what is. “Which friend?”

 

“Scott,” Sam mumbles. Bucky thinks he’s blushing. “You don’t know him.”

 

Bucky stares at the floor for a solid minute, and then he realizes he does kind of know Sam’s date. Maybe. “That ant guy? The one who shrinks and stuff?”

 

Sam’s  _ definitely  _ blushing. “Well, it’s not your business anyway.”

 

Bucky grins. “So it is a date.”

 

Sam glares daggers at him. “Fuck off,” he grumbles, adding the finger for good measure.

 

“Why won’t you just admit you’re going on a date?” Bucky whines, ignoring Sam’s glare. “We need first-date mementos. I’ll get an album.”

 

Sam shakes his head. “If you do that, you’re a dead asshole. And it’s  _ not _ a date, okay? We never called it a date, so it’s just dinner. Just two friends hanging out. Not that you’d know what that’s like.”

 

Bucky pouts. “Aw, I thought you were my friend.”

 

“Not anymore,” Sam says. He looks in the mirror one last time, grabs his jacket from the couch, and pats Bucky’s head. “Don’t tell anyone else I’m on a date. Because it’s not a date.”

 

Bucky blows him a kiss on his way out. “Have fun on your not-date!”

 

He gets the finger again.

 

-

 

“Did I tell you Sam’s on a date?” Bucky asks breathlessly. 

 

He rolls over and trails his fingers down Steve’s chest, glistening with sweat. He just remembered that Sam left a few hours ago to go on his not-date, and he isn’t back yet. Bucky hopes he’s getting laid. He deserves it. Or maybe he’s just walking down a quiet but romantic street, holding Scott’s hand. That’s good too.

 

Steve narrows his eyes. “Hmm, no.”

 

Bucky hums. “Well, he’s on a date. With Scott. Oh, but technically you don’t know this. I’m not supposed to tell you, oops.”

 

“Scott Lang?” Steve asks. 

 

He rolls over, and Bucky’s hand falls to the mattress, and their faces are so very close. Bucky can practically feel Steve’s eyelashes against his cheek. He steals a soft kiss before Steve can say anything. 

 

“Dunno, probably,” Bucky says. 

 

Steve smiles and moves Bucky’s hair out of his face. He’s illegally adorable. “Well, I won’t snitch on you.” He kisses Bucky, letting his teeth graze lightly over his lower lip. His eyes are so, so dark when he pulls back. “Wanna fuck again?”

 

-

 

Bucky almost doesn’t want to leave a very soft Steve in bed, but his overwhelming desire for milk is getting the best of him. Steve mumbles out something adorably incoherent and aimlessly tries to hold onto his wrist. It’s too cute to ignore.

 

Bucky presses a gentle kiss to Steve’s temple and whispers, “I’ll be right back, babe.”

 

Steve mumbles again. Bucky pulls on the first pair of boxers he sees on the floor - patterned with Iron Man masks, so it’s probably Steve’s - and puts on socks, and then he heads downstairs. The entire place is quiet and dark; Bucky assumes everyone’s gone to sleep. 

 

The light in the kitchen is already on when he gets there. Sam’s sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of orange juice and half an eggo. Under normal circumstances, Bucky would suddenly be feeling very, very naked, but it’s almost two in the morning and he doesn’t have any fucks left to give, so Sam will just have to deal with it. He glances up at Bucky and scrunches his nose.

 

“Socks but no pants?” Sam asks, gesturing vaguely at Bucky. “Put some pants on, man. No one wants to see that.”

 

“Steve does,” Bucky snickers, because he’s an asshole. 

 

Sam groans. “Do you ever shut up?”

 

Bucky grins and takes the milk out of the fridge. Nice and cold. Exactly what he needs right now. “Not voluntarily. Hey, how was your date? Oh, sorry.” He lowers his voice to a whisper and says, “How was your secret non-date?”

 

Sam looks like he’s trying really hard not to smile. “It was good. He’s- Scott, he’s nice. I like him.”

 

Bucky raises an eyebrow and sits across from him. “Oh? Do you  _ like _ like him?”

 

Sam reaches across the table to playfully punch his shoulder. “Maybe. You have a mustache, by the way.”

 

Bucky wipes his mouth and chugs the rest of his milk. “Evading the question, huh? Classic Wilson. So you had a good time?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam says, nodding. “Yeah, I had a great time. We’re going out again next Tuesday.”

 

Bucky snaps his fingers at him. “Aha! So it  _ was _ a date!”

 

“Drink your milk and shut up,” Sam says, but he’s blushing anyway.

 

“You can dream all you want,” Bucky says. 

 

He puts his empty glass in the sink to avoid Natasha’s Type A wrath and kisses Sam’s cheek on his way up. Sam doesn’t push him away. That’s what Bucky likes to call progress. 

 

“I’ll give Steve a kiss for you,” Bucky calls.

 

Sam laughs. “I’m in a relationship now. Give him a fist-bump instead.”

 

To be fair, Bucky does attempt to fist-bump Steve, but it doesn’t work as well when the other person is asleep. He falls asleep holding Steve’s hand instead, and tries to pass it off as a failed high-five.

 

-

 

“We’re going to a charity ball on Friday, so if you need any adjustments you have to let me know by tomorrow afternoon,” Pepper says, her heels clicking loudly on the floor. She’s already dressed like she’s about to go on CNN, clipboard tucked under her arm and all. She checks her watch and sighs. “Anyone know where Tony is? Jesus, that man.”

 

Bucky blinks slowly. It’s not even nine. He’s starting to think it might be a good idea to wear more than just boxers whenever he goes down to eat. Steve just sips his smoothie. Natasha clears her throat, but she doesn’t say anything.

 

“Adjustments?” Bucky asks, just as he shovels more frosted flakes in his mouth. Milk dribbles down his chin. 

 

Pepper doesn’t even seem to notice. “For your suits? Please tell me you have a suit, Bucky, or I  _ swear _ -”

 

“I’ll take care of it,” Steve says. He subtly winks at Bucky. Whatever that’s supposed to mean. “And no, I don’t know where Tony is. Why, is he in trouble?”

 

Pepper pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head. “No, I just need to get him on the jet, which is leaving in half an hour with or without him. And to think he’s the one who wanted that Ellen interview.”

 

Pepper sighs and walks away, and Bucky’s left feeling more confused. 

 

“Why does Tony get to go on Ellen but I don’t?” Bucky asks.

 

Natasha pats his shoulder. “It’s because no one likes you.”

 

“Ellen’s loss,” Bucky grumbles.

 

-

 

Bucky watches Tony's interview on Ellen passive-aggressively, but he gets distracted by this one audience member who seems way too excited to see Tony Stark in the flesh. In Bucky's opinion, he's a little overrated. Steve comes to watch it with him halfway through, and he spends the whole time loudly munching on half-frozen fingers and commenting on Tony's lack of fashion. 

 

"Shut up, I'm trying to watch this," Bucky snaps, stealing the bag of fingers out of Steve’s hands. Funny how that works out. “Stop being so loud.”

 

Steve puts a hand on his chest and gasps in mock offence. “It’s not my fault they’re crunchy.”

 

“Please never say that again,” Bucky says. 

 

Steve shrugs. “Hey, did I tell you I got asked to make a speech at Pride?”

 

“What? No, no you didn’t,” Bucky says. He turns down the tv volume and blinks until it starts to make sense. “Why wasn’t I asked?”

 

“Perks of being Captain America, I guess,” Steve says, grinning, and Bucky almost doesn’t notice that he takes back his bag of fingers.

 

-

 

Bucky almost wishes he hadn't agreed to go to Pepper’s stupid charity ball thing. Whatever it is, he doesn’t want to be here. Everyone’s too stuffy and rich and pretentious, and the food is horrendous and everyone keeps making small talk about business or the stock market or something equally dull. The only reason Bucky’s staying is because he loves the way Steve looks in a suit. All dolled up like Bucky’s own Prince Charming. The suit doesn’t do as much for Steve’s ass like his uniform, but it’ll have to do. It’s not like Bucky’s getting much opportunity to not-so-subtly stare at his boyfriend, anyway. 

 

Well, he guesses this is the downside of living so high-and-mighty. Eventually, he’ll have to suffer and socialize. 

 

“God, stop looking so miserable,” Natasha says, out of nowhere. She swirls her champagne. Bucky didn’t even realize she was there. “It’s bad for PR.”

 

Bucky gives her the finger. “I can be as miserable as I want, thanks. You can’t say you’re enjoying this.”

 

Natasha laughs. “Enjoying? No. Having fun? Absolutely. I like outsmarting a bunch of old, fat dickheads.” She pats his shoulder. “Just don’t spend the whole night sulking, okay? You’re not some angsty teenager, and this isn’t fucking prom. I’m gonna get more champagne. I’ll get one for you.”

 

Natasha kisses his cheek and leaves before Bucky can even respond. He’s not a big fan of champagne, and it’s not like the alcohol will affect him, but it’ll give him something to waste time with, allow him to delay having to talk to people. Maybe there’ll be a placebo effect or something, and he’ll get buzzed anyway. God, to be a normal person with a normal alcohol tolerance. That’s the dream. 

 

Bucky should probably wait for Natasha to come back, but he catches a glimpse of Steve’s ass - he could spot it in a crowd - and decides to go try and distract him from whatever conversation he’s having now. Natasha will find him. She’s good at that. 

 

Steve smiles when he sees Bucky, and it’s easily the most beautiful thing he’s seen all evening. He pulls Bucky into a hug and keeps his arm slung around his waist. Bucky instantly feels like they’re vying for Prom Kings, going around to try and get last-minute votes. 

 

“Where’ve you been?” Steve asks. He smooths down Bucky’s shirt, and if his hand lingers on Bucky’s chest for longer than it should, that’s no one’s business. “I couldn’t find you.”

 

Bucky waves his hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s probably because I’ve been trying to hide in the corner all night. Nat dragged me out. She’s a bad friend.”

 

Steve laughs, light and bubbly and gloriously happy. He puts a hand on either side of Bucky’s face. “Aww, poor Buck. At least you have a good boyfriend.”

 

“Mm,” Bucky murmurs, licking his lips. “That I do.”

 

He leans in to kiss Steve, slots their lips together, and then he’s interrupted by Natasha clearing her throat. She’s smirking, that bastard. Bucky wishes he could hate her, but she’s just too damn loveable. She’s got a gooey, marshmallow center, and he could never stay mad at her. 

 

“Save the tongue for later,” Natasha says, handing Bucky his promised champagne. “Here. Liquid courage. I thought you’d need it, but I guess you’re gonna be busy exchanging saliva or something.”

 

Bucky frowns at her. “We don’t- that’s not what kissing is?”

 

Natasha shrugs. “I don’t really care. I’ll catch you later, lovebirds. Gotta make my rounds, piss off some more men, you know.”

 

Bucky blows her a kiss as she leaves, and then he turns back to Steve and sighs. He really, really just wants to leave and make out somewhere dark and secluded, maybe haul Steve into the bathroom and give him a blowjob in some dirty stall, to pass the time and avoid socializing. Or, well, it’s probably not that dirty, considering the building they’re in. But his point still stands. 

 

“Wanna ditch?” Bucky asks. 

 

Steve kisses him again. So that’s a no. “I would, babe, but Pepper will literally kill me if I leave.”

 

“She’ll maim you at most,” Bucky counters. 

 

Steve huffs. “You’re really dumb, you know that?” He kisses Bucky’s cheek. That half makes up for calling him dumb, but Bucky agrees with him, so he’s not going to complain. Steve’s kisses are the best kisses. “Come on, let’s get seats. I heard they’re gonna be serving dinner soon.”

 

“Ugh, more of that food?” Bucky whines, as Steve drags him through the crowd. 

 

Steve laughs, and it’s unfair, really, because he doesn’t have to deal with the horrendous shit that somehow passes as food, and he shouldn’t get to laugh at Bucky’s misfortunes. He’s probably hungry, though, considering he there isn’t anything here he can eat (except for the people attending, obviously). Whatever, it’s still r ude. Some kind of boyfriend he is. 

They find a quiet and unattended table that’s far enough from the noisy, claustrophobic crowd, and Bucky takes the time to put his head down and close his eyes, and hopefully get a nice, five-minute nap. Just as he thinks he’s actually going to fall asleep, he’s interrupted by a hand groping at his crotch. Needy, desperate, oddly cold. 

“ _ Steve _ ,” Bucky grumbles, trying to ignore the beating of his heart and the way all his blood is rushing to his dick, because now’s really not the time. “Steve, stop, not here. Later, okay?”

Steve whines in his ear, so close, so breathy, so very hot. Jesus Christ, Bucky’s not going to last like this. “Please, Buck, please please please, I’m so- I really need- I need you to… god, please, just-”

Bucky turns his head and Steve kisses him without warning. It’s a little rough, a little needy. His teeth graze over Bucky’s lips and Bucky opens his mouth to give his tongue better access, and Steve’s hands palm him harder through his pants, and he’s starting to think they’re getting a little too enthusiastic. This is probably borderline illegal. 

“Steve,” he gasps, pulling back so he can recover his breath. He has one hand curled around Steve’s neck and the other fisted in his shirt. Damn, what a sight. “We can’t.”

Steve lets out a low-pitched whine that absolutely does not do anything to Bucky at all. He’ll deny it until he dies. “Bucky, if we don’t fuck, my dick’s gonna fall off.”

Bucky huffs out a breath and kisses Steve again. “No, it’s not, don’t be an idiot.”

“I swear it will,” Steve says. “Please please please?”

Bucky doesn’t have it in him to say no to Steve when he looks like this, debauched and horny and such a tease. He thinks he’s genetically coded to give in to whatever Steve asks of him. Not that he minds. He’s very much into the idea of fucking Steve right now, but he thinks they should probably go somewhere a little less public. 

“Okay,” Bucky whispers. “Okay, but we gotta go to the bathroom. And it’s gotta be quick.”

Steve nods, eyes wide, smiling like the big, dumb goof he actually is. Bucky takes his hand and guides him to the bathroom, which is thankfully empty. It’s not a single-stall, so they’ll have to be extra quiet. The minute they get in, Steve pulls Bucky in for a rough, heavy kiss, and Bucky fumbles to lock the stall door before Steve gets his pants off. 

They get back to the ball after a good few rounds of deliriously hot sex, and Bucky finds it’s easier to pass the time when the only thing he’s thinking of is Steve’s talented mouth and the things he can do. Natasha shoots him several dirty looks, but it’s totally worth it. 

-

Steve and Bucky barely get to spend quality time together that doesn’t revolve around hunting down Hydra agents and neo-Nazis and other really bad people, so Bucky was hoping their peaceful walk wouldn’t get disturbed. It’s a nice day, the sun is shining, the grass is green, and Bucky’s glad he finally gets Steve all to himself, outside of the bedroom, obviously. Sometimes, he just has the urge to walk around New York City like an old man in retirement. 

“Oh shit,” Steve says.

Bucky falters. He doesn’t see anything that’s “oh, shit” worthy. “Huh? What is it?”

“Reporter,” Steve hisses, like it’s a curse word. “Coming our way. Shit, shit, motherfucker, what am I gonna do? They can’t fucking leave us alone, I swear.”

Bucky frowns. “It’s not that bad, Stevie. He looks like a kid, come on. Just let him get whatever he wants.”

Steve fumes quietly, but he doesn’t say anything when the reporter approaches them. He’s young, small, looks timid but also really excited. Bucky wonders if Captain America is his hero, and maybe that’s why his whole body is shaking. Or is he just cold?

“H-hi, Mr. Rogers,” the reporter says, flashing Steve a charming and practiced smile. He completely ignores Bucky - fair and understandable, but it still makes Bucky regret trying to defend him. “I’m with the New York Bulletin, and, uh, we were just wondering about all the um, the smoothies you’ve been having lately?”

Steve grips Bucky’s hand so tight he’s afraid it’s going to break. Shit. Bucky can feel Steve’s heartbeat through his wrist, can feel the panic radiating off of him. How the hell is he gonna save face this time? There’s no way he can get out of this, the smoothies are obviously human flesh, they’re just trying to expose him and-

“Berries,” Steve says quickly. He takes a deep breath. Bucky blinks. “Raspberries, blueberries, blackberries. You know. Berries. They’re uh, healthy and stuff.”

Bucky quietly lets out a sigh of relief. Thank god one of them has brain cells. 

The reporter’s smile is a little more relaxed now. “Oh, well, uh… they look really good.”

“Thanks?” Steve says. Awkward as ever. He has as much social competence as a… well, okay, usually he’s a lot more sociable. He’s just been an idiot lately. 

The reporter jabbers on and on about something smoothie-related, asking all sorts of questions Bucky doesn’t really pay attention to, and it feels like it’s been ages until he actually leaves. 

“That was a good save,” Bucky says, once he’s sure the reporter is well out of hearing range. 

Steve bumps his shoulder and smiles. “I tried my best.”

“When do you think that article’s coming out, huh?” Bucky asks. He huffs out a half-snort laugh and shakes his head.

 

God, he can’t even imagine what the headline would be.  _ Captain America’s New Diet Will Leave You Shocked _ , or something equally terrible. He has a lot of respect for reporters, but sometimes they’re just too damn funny, and their stories are ridiculous. 

Steve laughs and slings an arm over Bucky’s shoulders. “Hopefully never.”

They walk around the city for the rest of the afternoon, and Bucky gets so caught up in Steve's voice and his laughter and that smile, he almost doesn't realize when they accidentally step foot in Hell's Kitchen. He recognizes the building across the street, though, where he had the incident he's never talking about ever again, and he immediately turns around and drags Steve away. He can't go there in case… he just doesn't want to deal with  _ him _ again. And besides, he'd probably slip up and say something about that stupid-ass costume and get kicked in the balls for it. That's not really how he wants to end the day. 

"Hey, why…?" Steve asks. He's giving Bucky that adorable, confused frown. 

Bucky shudders. "Ugh, let's just try and stay away from Hell's Kitchen, okay? I'm not in the mood."

Steve stares at him for a long minute, and then he lets out a quiet sigh and fondly shakes his head. "That again? It happened like a year ago, Buck. Stop being so scared of-" 

"Don't say his name," Bucky hisses, slapping a hand over Steve's mouth. So maybe that was a little aggressive, but he has his reasons. "He'll hear you. Plus, he told me to stay away from his turf, so that's exactly what I'm gonna do."

Steve moves his hand away and rolls his eyes. "You're seriously afraid of getting your ass kicked?" 

Bucky doesn't reply to that because he has dignity. And maybe Steve's right and he just doesn't want to admit it. 

"You know," Steve says, "by not answering the question, you're technically still answering it?" 

"Shut the fuck up, Rogers," Bucky says. 

Steve laughs. Rude. "I don't get why you're so scared. You have a metal arm."

"And he has a high pain tolerance." Bucky whines and looks over Steve's shoulder. Maybe it's just his imagination, but he swears he sees that fucking costume on some rooftop. Watching him. Listening. Bucky shivers again and looks away. "Can we please just go somewhere else? Where I won't feel threatened?" 

Steve kisses his cheek. "Dramatic, but okay, I guess."

They walk along the riverfront and studiously avoid Hell’s Kitchen, and while Steve’s rattling off the names of various restaurants he thinks Bucky would like, Bucky gets a call from Bruce. He stares at his phone for a bit before he actually answers. 

“This better be important,” Bucky says, sighing loudly.

“It is.” Bruce sounds a little panicked when he talks. Bucky tries not to think much of it, but he can’t help the way his gut twists and his heartbeat picks up. “I really think you should come back and see this.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who'll be making a guest appearance in the next chapter?? I'm on [ tumblr ](http://mattmuwudock.tumblr.com) like always! Come say hi!!

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has an update schedule! I'll be uploading a new chapter every Friday. I'm on tumblr @mattmuwudock - come say hi, I love talking to you guys!


End file.
